Deny
by LD2347
Summary: He always watched Maria. She knew what he wanted it was only in time she would truly see.


The rain was clear.

The house was still, Maria stood polishing the wood of the kitchen counter. She stood doing it for hours each time her hands becoming more and more raw. He stood in the doorway all the while watching. Looming over her his eyes fixed like a hawk scouting a mouse. She never looked at him once just felt his stare on her body.

It was the second hour that she broke, her neck snapping slightly back meet his gaze. His eyes met hers as he placed a cigarette between his lips flicking the lighter to life. He moved towards the kitchen table scraping the chair away and throwing his one arm behind it whilst the other carried on toying with the lighter. She hesitated and slowly began to pack away her cleaning items having finished polishing.

"What about here," his voice asked mockingly, a tight smile upturned his lips into an unflattering angle his finger pointing to the table in front of him. She dared not defy him he was a major after all.

Maria once again took out the polish and began her task all the while been in touching distance from him. She polished in silence, a cloud of smoke around her engulfing her every breath. As she finished the table his hand snatched her wrist.

"Would you deny me Maria," he asked, eyes questioning her every movement.

"No," she replied, her eyes had now returned to the floor.

"Would you deny me your time," he asked again.

"No,"

"Would you deny me your presence,"

"No,"

"Would you deny me your body," he asked finally tilting his head to meet her eyes all the while his hand remained on her wrist.

She froze, her nervous shifting stopping at his final question. A question with only one answer. A question she before would have answered "Yes". But now this question must be answered "No". Like everything now we all must be submissive for what else can we be. She stood silent for a while focusing on the soft tic of the clock that now had begun to sound like a drone. His grip tightened on her wrist a polite reminder that he required an answer.

"No," her final answer fell like a stone from her mouth.

He didn't reply after that, simply stubbed his cigarette and collected his coat. Slowly making his way out the room brushing past her at every move to remind her of his presence. His heavy boots pounding down the hallway. Maria finally sat at the table her hand clutching her lips, her breathing heavy and irregular.

She had expected him to come to her that night a feeling of dread flooding through her as she sat brushing her hair by the mirror. Her room was small and down the end of the staff corridor it held the basics nothing compared to what they had upstairs. He didn't come she waited knees pressed to her chin eyes to the door. She fell asleep in a heap on the bed her body growing slack and bones tired of waiting and tired of dreading.

She returned to her cleaning duties with her head down as usual the next morning. The house became alive with men, smoke and laughter. Maria never spoke to them only answered questions. She heard what they said about her they spoke in German spilling out snide crude comments as she continued cleaning. In truth Maria was not plain, she did not blend into the washed out walls with her red curls falling from its briad and her eyes were a warm orange brown, however the war had begun to make them appear tired and strained. She returned to the kitchen carefully cutting thin slices of bread and cheese and wrapping them in paper to take back to her family. No one got enough food anymore. She couldn't loose anyone not anymore. Her mother had once said when she first took the job, keep your eyes down and mouth shut. It's not that she wanted the job she preferred the family shop but there was no longer items to sell just rations that could be done by two people, no need for her. Her uncle had found her the job his constant schemes had now ensnared her.

Maria entered his office carrying a tray of coffee placing the cup softly on the table before picking up the tray to carry to the other offices.

"Maria," he called sharply before she reached the door, her head turning to meet his.

"Come here," his request was simple but his eyes challenged her. Challenged her to stay and submit or run. She stayed. Walking slowly back from the door and placing the tray of coffee down on the table by the door with a soft clink of the cups. He took out a cigarette and lit it before offering her one. Maria accepted letting him light hers, she coughed at the first hit of nicotine not used to sharpness, he scoffed staring at her shaking fingers. He finished his before her and instead of being patient he took the cigarette from her lips stubbing it in the ash tray beside his. The room became silent as he stood up from his seat and beckoned her forward so that she stood in front of him before he backed her into his desk so that she eventually was sat on the edge. He reached up pulling out her hair from its braid letting it fall down her back, before moving her chin to meet his eyes. He pushed her back further into the desk her back almost lying flat over files, paperwork and reports scattered across it.

"Why," she asked softly almost unheard, he stopped hands gently resting on her waist. This was not a an act of love. This was not an act of submission. This was what people would say an act of survival.

"You are the most beautiful woman that I have seen working here. Your subdue and modest, you think they don't see you, the men you refuse to talk to. But they do everyone does. Maybe I'm lucky that there has been a war other circumstances might not have meant we would ever have encountered one another. They want you, they've wanted you for a long time. Some men become starved like dogs when they are denied for too long. Would you rather I feed you to those dogs, Maria?" He asked face dark with desire and a cruel smile formed on his face. Maria shook her head. His hands reaching under her pulling her closer.

He undid her apron and dress leaving her in a thin shift sprawled across his desk, her head turned to side watching the door instead of him. He didn't bother removing clothes, just removing the jacket he so proudly wore. At least she wouldn't hear the metal clinking and scraping together. Her back ached as he began fucking her the surface to solid and cold with uncomfortable stacks of paper her only support. He held her by her hips, her pale legs brought up past his waist. The sound of heavy breathing was apparent and he watched her moving a hand to her cheek peeling her eyes away from the door and into his his own. She stared at him hard and blankly almost in defiance. She was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen even now contorted in pain and fear she never lost her attraction. She was far to special to be a just a maid, but she wasn't good enough for anything else she would never be his wife. She would never be brought to his real home. He learnt down further so that his head rested between her shoulder and neck as he stilled. An end to the first encounter.

He got up and slumped down into the chair by his desk fingers quickly finding a cigarette. She stayed on the desk with her arms across her chest staring up at the ceiling and small chandelier that gently rocked from the wind coming through the small gap in the front office window. He stood up slowly looking down at the dazed woman young. He left her the rest of the cigarettes and a spare lighter before asking that she come back tomorrow. He left the room after. He didn't need to tell her to clean up the mess left behind, but she did it was her job. It was her job to clean the chaos he left behind, she pulled back on her clothes and then after a while began to tidy the room back to how it was before.


End file.
